


Son of Village

by Nasyat



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Jokes, Charades, Companionable Snark, Frottage, I Keep Mine Hidden, Intense Orgasm, Love Confessions, M/M, Maxwell Doesn’t Like Charades, Needy Maxwell, Soft Maxwell, Submissive Maxwell, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nasyat/pseuds/Nasyat
Summary: There is something about the way Maxwell says that word...





	1. Why Did the Rooster...

**Author's Note:**

> I like toying with the idea of speech idiosyncrasies... 
> 
> I was thinking of the whole “Cool Whip” scenario when writing this (inspired by the way my rp buddy spells Wilson in Russian by the way).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Villson, with all honesty, the chicken joke is neither funny, nor clever, despite being considered, ah, ‘classic’.”

The small scientist shook his head and feigned a condescending smile. ”It was never intended to be any of that... the word is ‘common’, by the way, but think about it: we sometimes refer to death as the ‘other side’... and what do we have on the roads?” “...Roadkills?” “Exactly.” Wilson folded his hands and gestured with them emphatically. “Cars; the ultimate death machines. So, putting two and two together, we end up with a pun about a flightless, suicidal bird, - a chick, so to speak, who couldn’t cope with her impairment and chose to finalize her suffering in the most cowardly way possible,” he concluded, with a grin full of suggestion. Unnoticeably for external observer, the scientist braced himself up, waiting; he really dropped a lot ‘carrots’ in this one.

The former magician seemed not a lick impressed with his speech. He crossed his arms over his chest, and hemmed. Wilson raised a brow:

“...What, too close to home?” 

Stab.

Maxwell countered by raising both brows. “You know perfectly well that I do not have self-destructive tendencies.” The scientist kept staring, pointedly, and the other man pursed his lips in resentment. “Why are you... are you saying that-“ Wilson put his arms akimbo and crowed. 

Maxwell gasped. “I-I am not a chicken!..” he yelled, and the younger man echoed, “You are not a chicken, that’s right! You are...a cock!” He was splitting his sides, when the former magician fisted his sleeved elbows helplessly, and sputtered, “Villson, I swear to god-”

“Why are you saying my name like that, anyway?” the scientist asked, wiping tears from cackling so hard that his abdominal muscles started to ache. Wilson rubbed his hurt belly, but still beamed; he and the Old Man seemed to have silently agreed to some sort of... companionship? recently, and the former magician took on calling him by his actual name. Wilson would’ve been overjoyed, if it didn’t sound so funny off the other’s tongue.

Maxwell raised his chin arrogantly. “I’m just saying it the way it’s supposed to be said.” 

“Yeah? Say it again.”

“V...Villson.”

“Yeah, no, see, it should be ‘Wilson’, with W and short L,” that was so easy, and yet... “..You ’veirrdo’,” he piqued gently. The scientist scratched his head for a moment, and added, thoughtful, “Although I must admit, coming from you, it does sound strangely adorable.” 

There was a brief pause, during which Wilson had time to break into cold sweat, come up with a dick joke, and then convince himself that he really didn’t say anything that outrageous, did he? and-

“...Adorable enough to give me a kiss?” He heard, murmured quietly.

Well now. That one came out of nowhere.

Wilson’s eyes widened in shock: did... did Maxwell say that? Yep, there he was, looking down, with arms folded so tight, he was almost hugging himself. The scientist’s expression changed to relief (he wasn’t hallucinating), hope (...did he mean that?), excitement (giddiness; was this really happening? He gave up on his feelings so long ago, when the person on the radio, his ‘guide’, that he felt strange, uncanny, and unexplainable attraction to, turned out to be a bad guy), but... 

Before the other man got a chance to see that glaring gamma of emotions, Wilson formed his face into something sly and stepped up to the tall figure. When the former magician raised his gaze, Wilson pressed his tenacious fingers to his own lips, and then to Maxwell’s big ones. 

“V... Higgsbury,” the other’s voice sounded hoarse. The small scientist traced the opened mouth with the pad of his thumb...

...Teased the lower lip with a feather-light touch of fingertips...

The older man was trembling. 

“V..Villson, please...” the shorty tip toed and leaned in impossibly close, breathing hot air on Maxwell’s parted lips.

A whine. 

It was so small and pitiful, that Wilson drew back and chuckled, hiding titillation and flattery behind the quizzical sound.

He gave the former magician an understanding smile, “..What, that bad?”  
There was no response, besides uneven breathing, so Wilson stepped back and held onto the lapels of his red vest, hiding his sinking heart behind starch.

“Anyway, gentlemen always court their ladies... we should at least go on a date first, and I should give you flowers, and...”

“W...W-Wil...” Maxwell tried, visibly constrained, flushing with extortion.

Before he could finish, Wilson knocked him off his feet with a passionate kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The upcoming part was not originally intended to be written at all.
> 
> Oh boy.


	2. ...Slowly Cross the Line?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this first, in pure self-indulgence... Now I feel like the get-up of the two parts differs drastically. But I don’t really wanna mingle with them anymore, so, just, “take it for everything”, I guess?
> 
> *shrugs for days

The scientist opened his mouth a little, letting their wet tongues dance against each other - maybe awkwardly, but with unyielding hotness nonetheless. Maxwell had his fingers buried deep in the younger man’s chevelure, pulling him in and pressing their lips so desperately hard, that Wilson actually had to fight against that needy zeal - to avoid their teeth clashing and scraping together, and overexcited slobber.

When he managed to draw back, they were both panting, the older man more out of breath than him, naturally. Maxwell’s thin hair was disheveled and stuck to his wrinkled forehead, eyes - half-lidded and cloudy, and the former magician’s already full lips appeared even more plump, parted and glistening with saliva... Wilson felt his member stir from the delicious sight, but he still made an attempt at preserving some sort of decency; he cleared his throat, fixed his vest, and began, “I don’t think it’s very appropriate to, you know...” the scientist was interrupted by a whine, and the older man dragged him back in again. 

Finally breaking away from the grasping hold, Wilson tried once more, voice sounding even weaker: “I, uh... it cannot be THAT critical, can it?”

“You... you don’t know... for how long I’ve been waiting...” groaned the former magician, making both of them shiver from a wave of sultry pleasure that ran through their bodies. ‘...Ah, to Hell with ceremonies,’ thought Wilson and dove onto the exposed neck, ravishing it with his lips and tongue and occasional teeth, drinking in the musky aroma of Maxwell’s natural body smell and sweat. The other man stifled another groan and arched; his head was tossing, helplessly, in uninhibited agony.

One of Wilson’s hands (they were wandering over the quivering body underneath) brushed past the man’s nipple, and Maxwell drew in a shaky breath. Wilson broke away and looked at him through the turbid veil of desire; this must have been a sensitive spot of his... Slowly, his unskillful fingers undid the buttons of the mocha vest and then, the once exquisite and perfectly ironed-out shirt, - now crumpled and being far from fresh; but instead of fully revealing the man’s hairless chest and sunken belly, the scientist’s fingers ghosted over and began fondling the sensitive flesh through the cotton fabric. Maxwell tried to hold back a yelp - unsuccessfully; Wilson smiled. 

His own arousal was begging for attention, so he started rubbing his crotch on the other man’s thigh, excruciatingly slow, dragging out each thrust... He heard a whimper. The scientist leaned in, his own knee pressed against Maxwell, who was painfully hard; he got an idea, and grinned even wider:

“...What’s the symbol for iodine?” 

“H-huh?..” Maxwell blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend the question through the strain of unresolved tension and overwhelming pleasure coursing in his blood. The scientist slowed down his ministrations, drawing his knee back, and the older man whined again.

“What’s the symbol for iodine, in the periodic table?” Wilson repeated, inexorable. The former magician was heavily breathing, knitting his brow pathetically. 

“W-whu...”

“Think.”

The older man strained his wit.

“I-Iod?..” 

“Warm...” The fingers resumed brushing over his clothed nipple ever so slightly - a silent promise.

“i-I?” He stammered out, and received a firm graze over the tender spot; Maxwell cried out.

“...Good boy.”

Wilson resumed his sweet, sweet torture. Maxwell felt his eyes roll up in pleasure, but the younger man wasn’t done.

“What’s the first variable in the mass-energy equation?”

Maxwell winced and shook his head.

“Alright. How do you denominate elementary charge?”

‘Why are you doing this?!’ he wanted to scream, but all he could muster was another pitiful whine.

The scientist tried again, “Short for electron?”

The older man’s lips started to move, mutely, as he tried to understand despite the thick haze of arousal.

“Slang for a certain “ecstatic” drug?” gave a cue Wilson.

“...E?” he quietly suggested, breathless, and in reward Wilson leaned and sucked on his earlobe. Although, he still wasn’t quite finished.

“How do you commonly abbreviate “Volume”?” he asked insistently. Maxwell felt like he was about to explode and die. Which, honestly, wasn’t that bad of an alternative at the moment.

“C-clari...” He didn’t even get to finish his inquiry.

“In referral to a written work.” 

He should’ve remembered that abbreviation; in fact, he did.

“V-vol.?” The undoubtedly mad and evil scientist smiled at him encouragingly and murmured in his ear:

“Alright, now put those last two together and read it backwards.”

That was the final straw, and Maxwell felt his eyes sting. He fought a nasty sob that clogged his throat for a moment, but it was futile, and the man burst into tears.

Wilson immediately realized that he’d crossed the line... like he always did. Driven by guilt, he began peppering poor Maxwell’s face with gentle pecks; he kissed under his big, protruding chin and whispered, apologetically:

“Hey... Shhh... I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry...”

Stroking the older man’s cheeks and brushing his graying hair away from the wet forehead, the scientist said, voice soft and genuine:  
“I love you, Maxwell.”

That soothed the former magician, and Maxwell looked him in the eye, blinking the moisture away; apparently, he was in shame over his nervous prostration. Wilson kissed him on the lips then, long and sweet, and they melted into the embrace. Soon, their tangled bodies resumed the delicious friction against each other...

Wilson finally let his lips close on the hardened nipple; after bothering it almost sore, he switched attention to its “counterpart”. The older man was moaning uncontrollably, flushed burgundy, wriggling under the surprisingly heavy weight of the scientist. The prominence in between their legs bumped and rubbed against each other - Maxwell spread his thighs, knees shaking, pushing into the other’s hips. He was clawing at the grass spasmodically, not daring to touch Wilson... And that was what made the younger man finally snap.

He fumbled with Maxwell’s trousers, patiently undoing the button, unzipping the fly; he fondled him through the fabric of the underwear, and finally fished out the hard member. It sprung up like a jack-in-the-box, lengthy and thin. Wilson grinned: jackin’...-the-box..ers? 

“It’s... it doesn’t look that... funny,” resentfully, and the young scientist raised his eyes to the other man, who was frowning and pursing his lips, looking hurt; Wilson quietly laughed; instead of answering, he leaned in to place a kiss on the pout, and then, on the other... head, that was leaking with pre-ejaculatory fluid... He vaguely heard Maxwell gasp, as he teased the slit with his tongue. 

The scientist licked the shaft from base to top, leaving a wet trail, - Maxwell moaned loudly; he pressed kisses against throbbing veins, sensing the rapid pulse, - Maxwell croaked out a cry; Wilson was urging out drops of that intoxicating liquid, when he felt a timid touch on his shoulder. He was just as red as Maxwell when he looked up, and the other said, with difficulty:

“Can I... see... y-you?” Pause, breathless, “Villson.”

The scientist didn’t understand what he was asked of at first, but as soon as he did, he raised to his knees and pushed his loose, due to starvation on his part and threadbareness on theirs, pants down; he watched, mesmerized, as the older man caressed his rather small member, then gingerly enveloped it in his warm palm... When he felt the thumb softly brush over him, Wilson hissed. He sat forward, pressing them together, and intertwined his fingers with Maxwell’s, guiding their hands to wrap over the straining erections. Both men drew sharp breath.

Haltingly, they began moving, sliding against each other; the former magician attempted to fasten the pace, but every time he did that, Wilson would slow his shaking hand, or spastic thrusts, down, into obedience, and the excruciatingly languid act dragged on. It felt like he was going insane, the older man thought, whimpering and squirming, fingers of his free hand curling and uncurling helplessly. The peak was rolling onto him like a soap bubble slowly being blown into humongous size. 

And then it popped, and Maxwell gave a long, breathless moan, releasing with a dizzying force and abundance. He accidentally grazed his nail over Wilson’s tender flesh, and the other man cried out and climaxed as well. The former magician sagged, feeling his cheeks burn and mind getting hazy; heavy warmth spread throughout his body, and, light-headed due to intense orgasm and preceding frazzling petting, he lost consciousness.

~~~

When Maxwell unstuck his heavy eyelids, he realized, with a start, that he was lying under the furry covers, naked, pressed to another body that he instantly knew was Wilson. The older man raised his face and saw that the scientist was gazing up at the tent’s roof absentmindedly, pondering something. Maxwell smiled, weakly:

“You... think too much.”

Now it was Wilson’s turn to flinch as he was jerked out of deep contemplation, and he looked at the former magician, smiling widely, eyes glistening with joy: “ Yeah? Well, YOU don’t think enough! ...although, no, don’t try it, or you might hurt yourself.” Maxwell nudged him with an elbow, as the smaller man broke into merry laughter. He seemed... if not happy, then at least content. 

Overwhelmed with fondness over the sound of his heartfelt chuckling and the memories of their earlier... intimacy, the former magician pressed his lips to other’s stubbly jaw. Wilson quietened, and pulled him closer... Finally, the older man withdrew, and muttered:

“I love you too... Villson.”

“Villson” tittered and gave him a savory smooch. 

“I washed our clothes and left them to dry outside,” the scientist deemed it necessary to clarify, and Maxwell rested head on his narrow, but fuzzy chest, and smiled. 

“That’s... very considerate,” he murmured, then slyly added, “...and most fortunate.”

Wilson snorted again, and uttered, “...You sleazy elderling...”

“...My little scientist,” retorted the other man, and Wilson bumped their foreheads together, smiling from ear to ear and squinting with unmistakable happiness.


End file.
